The Fall
by CrayonDreamer
Summary: Absolute power corrupts absolutely.  A monster is created by the name of Initia Nova, America blames himself, England will do anything to protect him, and in the end, the world can only watch as a fellow Nation, a brother, falls. But who will fall? USUK
1. Dummkopf

**A/N: Okay, so I started this almost a year a go and gave up because I had honestly grown out of Hetalia. But I've semi-returned, and when I came back to this story, I realized that there was too much potential to waste it. So, I'm going over it chapter by chapter to edit the horrendous spelling and grammar mistakes (my bad), change a few this in the story line, and... tone things down a bit if you know what I mean. I just want to make it into a more mature, enjoyable story. **

**Here goes nothing.**

**XXXXXXXXXXX**

"The British are coming! The British are coming!"

"You stupid git!"

Alfred raced down the halls of the conference centre, a rare flaming Brit trailing in his wake. The colours of the walls, decorations and figures of other Nations blurred past him as he ran through the corridors. Arthur really needed to lighten up- all he did was through confetti in his face... followed by a good pantsing.

But wasn't it his right to celebrate? After all, tomorrow was his birthday.

Back to the matter at hand, Arthur didn't seem to appreciate it, and so Alfred found himself trying to outrun him and avoid his rage. Still, he couldn't help but laugh at the whole situation. Alfred turned a corner, leaning his body his practised ease to avoid slipping. If he was lucky he could make it outside, where he knew there was a hedge maze he could lose Iggy in. He smirked to himself- it was that kind of quick thinking that made him the best country ever.

Just a little further to go and he would be home free. The young nation glanced behind him, where England kept his pace, trying to catch up to no doubt give Al a peace of his mind. He sent a smug grin Arthur's way, basking in the furious atmosphere that surrounded the older nation-

Until he hit a brick wall also known as Germany's abs.

The impact hit Al hard, causing him to fall back onto his butt, while Ludwig remained sturdy, if not a little stunned. He gazed down at America, once his enemy, then back up to see England coming to a stop behind him, and back down at America, who grinned sheepishly up at him.

He watched as England seethed down at his former colony. Then it hit him, that's why England was over reacting...sure he had the right to be pissed, but you could clearly tell this was more. Germany sighed, America could be such an idiot sometimes... **most of the time**.

Arthur clenched and unclenched his fist, trying unsuccessfully to calm himself. Part of him wanted to clobber Alfred senseless, another wanted to...he wasn't even going to think about it. The last thing he needed was to break down in front of his comrades, or start a fight. So, he decided to be the mature nation, and briskly walk away, straight past the other two, his fist settled on staying clenched.

Ludwig watched him leave through the glass doors to the garden from the corner of his eyes, then turned his head to see Alfred pushing himself up, fixing his glasses. Germany sighed, running his fingers through his finely combed hair. "Dummkopf." He muttered.

"What?" Alfred asked, tilting his head slightly.

"Dummkopf. Imbecile. Stupid." Ludwig droned on.

"I know what it means!" Alfred shouted.

"No you didn't."

"...That's not the point, why did you say that?" Alfred asked, not letting himself feel like an idiot.

"Listen America, we are not exactly friends. Not enemies anymore, but certainly not friends. But I do fell I should...Aw, screw this, Feliciano!" Germany called out into the open air. He had given up on actually looking for the Italian, he could be beckoned like a hyper active puppy. Hell, most of the time he was nearby anyway.

"Yes Germany!" The young man smiled, popping up, seemingly out of no where.

"Italy, I take it you were listening?" Ludwig asked, his arms crossed across his chest.

"Maybe just a little."

"Fine then, you explain everything to the Dummkopf." He said, waving his hand over his shoulder and he walked away.

"Okay!" Italy exclaimed, devoted to the task. Feli turned to face the incredibly confused Alfred and smiled encouragingly. "I think England might be sad that you're teasing him today, cause it's you're birthday, it probably reminds him of the Revolutionary War."

Alfred felt like shit. There was no other way to describe it. How could he have forgotten? England always got all moody around the 4th of July. And here he was, practically rubbing it in his face... "I never thought about it like that..." He trailed off. He closed his eyes for a moment, shaking his head. "Shit." He cursed under his breath before taking off through the doors and into the garden.

He burst through the doors, into the blinding sunlight. Pausing for a moment, shielding his eyes, he thought, _'Damn, why didn't I buy transition lenses?',_ but remembered why he was out there again. _'Oh right, England.' _America took off into the hedge maze, looking for any sign of his former guardian.

It had seemed like hours, but was really only 10 minutes, when Alfred had to stop running to take a breath. He bent over, letting his head hang as he rested his hands on his knees. He took a few gulps of air before straightening himself up. How far could Arthur have gotten? It seemed so much easier when he was younger and just...an idea struck him. America cupped his hands around his mouth and called out into the open air. "Marco!"

No reply.

"Marco!"

Still nothing.

"Marcoooo! Marco marco marco marco marco ma-"

"Polo! Bloody hell, polo!" Came England's the irritated reply, just around the corner.

Alfred practically jumped over the bushes to find a small little courtyard with a few willow tress, flowers, and a white bench with a Brit sitting on it. Iggy purposely had his back to him, and Alfred smirked. For someone who claimed to be so mature, he could be more childish than himself sometimes.

"Don't you think you're a little old for that game?" England commented slowly, still not facing him.

"Define old." The US laughed, plopping himself onto the bench in his trademark, lazy posture- legs crossed, stretched out in front of him, slouching, his arms resting on the back of the seat.

"You're over 200 hundred years old...and older tomorrow." He added coldly.

Alfred sighed, running on hand through his hair. "Listen... for a hero, I was a bit of a jack ass back there. I completely forgot...you know, everything. It just seems so long ago."

"It was a long time ago." Arthur agreed.

"I guess it still kinda sucks, you know?"

"Yeah, I know."

There are a long silence, the wind filling in the pause with it's gentle music and soft caresses. America leaned his head back and closed his eyes, living in the moment, instead of the day that changed his life over 200 years ago. When the wind left them, he sighed, letting his head fall on his chest and his hair cover his eyes. "You know I did what I had to." He muttered.

"Hm."

"Look at me, I was never meant to be 'England's Colony'. I'm America, land of the free, all that crap." He paused, barely containing his laughter. "Besides, you probably would have kicked me out eventually anyway."

Even Arthur couldn't be mad at that- the damn American was to charismatic. "Probably."

Together they laughed, like they hadn't in years, and never thought they would again. "So, we're good?" Alfred asked once he could breathe again.

Iggy finally turned to face him, green eyes dancing. "Yeah, whatever you twat."

**XXXXXXXXXXX**

_Alfred couldn't see anything past the blood on his hands. He choked on his own breath, staring wide eyes, teary eyed, down at the red stains. What the hell was going on? He looked down to see his Revolutionary War uniform, something he had wanted to burn, but never felt he could. It was raining, and he was standing on a barren rock plain, completely alone. _

_A flash of lightening crashed through the clouded, and the next this he knew, he was glaring into familiar green eyes, their faces almost touching. Arthur gazed back at him, his eyes a mixture of surprise, anger, deep sadness- and pain._

_It was then that he noticed he was holding something. The blonde slowly looked down to see a musket in his own, blood stained hands, smoke rising from the snout. He felt his entire body go numb when he saw the blood slowly leaking from Arthur's abdomen. England slowly fell to the ground._

"_Arthur!" He shouted as he fell to his knees beside him. He rolled his comrade onto his back, to find his glazed eyes looking up at him. "I- I didn't mean to- I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry!" He cried, suddenly feeling like a child once again._

Alfred shot up into a sitting position, taking a moment to recognize where he was. Back at his house. The meaning was over. He rested a hand on his heart, gasping for air, his entire body glistening with cold sweat. Groaning, the teen fell back onto his bed. He had had nightmares of the revolution before, but none had ever been so...disturbing. It killed him to think that was how it could have turned out. He let his head fall to the side, glancing at the digital clock.

12:01 a.m.

"Happy Birthday to me."

**XXXXXXXXXXX**

**And there we go! I've done a lot of revamping to the original plot, so you'll see the little things hear and there that I've changed. Did you like this version better than the first? Tell me what you think! **


	2. Beer and Barriers

**A/N: ...Wow, why did I talk like such a weeaboo teeny bopper in my old Author's Notes? Forever shame on my family.**

**XXXXXXXXXXXX**

It was the only time Germany ever saw Italy run fast, not including while retreating. The young Italian sped down the green field, keeping the white and black ball in perfect distance from his feet. Germany flanked him, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Seeing his opportunity, he threw his leg out, not expecting Feliciano to kick it away, spinning himself around to shoot the ball into the net.

Italy: 24

Germany: 19

"Yeah! I win! I win!" Feli sang, dancing around himself, before letting himself fall onto the lush football field grass. He took in gulps of air, grinning all the while, the running catching up with him as his stared up at the clear blue sky. Germany chuckled lightly, lowering himself to the ground with a bit more dignity.

"Why couldn't you have run like that during battle?" He asked.

"Easy, because I wasn't playing football!" Italy shrugged. "Not that it matters anyway, everyone is finally getting along somewhat, and even though they still bicker, no one is fighting, so I don't have to run away!" He explained with his oh-so-cheery attitude.

"Yeah." Ludwig sighed, "I guess that's true. I have to say, this whole world peace thing is nice."

"Well of course it is! It's peaceful!"

"Smart ass."

The two allies lifted themselves off the ground and walked over to the small bench where they had left their things. Germany took a big swing from his water bottle, while North Italy packed up his ball. "Hey Ludwig! Are you excited for the party at America's house tonight? I heard there is going to be lots of beer and explosions!"

"I guess." Ludwig shrugged, stuffing his water bottle into his gym bag. "It'll be fine as long as we keep Prussia away from the beer."

"I don't think that's possible."

"One can only hope. Leave it to him to start a drunken fight." Ludwig sighed before starting the walk back to Feliciano's car. "Come on Italy!" He called over his shoulder, not really bothering to look behind him. Of course, if he had, he would have been prepared for Feli launching himself onto the taller man's back.

"Piggy back ride!" He sang, wrapping his twiggy arms around Germany's thick neck. Ludwig sighed, carrying the young man without a problem towards the car. He really needed a beer.

**XXXXXXXXXXXX**

And beer there was.

The party was typical with a group such as themselves. A perfect blend of friendly gathering and chaos. Groups were scattered around Alfred's home, people leaving one group to talk with another, mingling, laughing, having a great time, and avoiding the ones they didn't exactly get along with. Poland and Liechtenstein took up a love-seat, Poland speaking passionately about the latest European fashions, while Liechtenstein simply smiled and nodded, shyly adding her two cents here and there, all the while wondering where her dear older brother was. Switzerland and Austria were still in the foyer- Austria hadn't taken two steps in the front door before Switzerland had demanded what he was doing there. They bickered and bickered about a lot of nothing, jumping from subject to subject, neither really every getting angry with the other.

Poland had arrived around the same time as Sweden and Finland, who both sat on another love seat. Sweden simply stared ahead, occasionally at his companion with his intense, intimidating gaze, while Finland squirmed in his seat, scared out of his wits to say or do something. Not far from them, and completely oblivious to the tense atmosphere, Greece took up an entire sofa, snoozing away, a cat perched atop his head. Of course, Turkey would have taken the first chance to piss him off, but he was a little busy. The Turk was currently trying to make off with Romano, claiming 'He had said he would be back for the boy', ignoring Romano's insults and bickering with an inflamed Spain.

Lithuania, Latvia and Estonia watched from not far away, hiding behind a large column. The trembling trio, though, were not hiding from the argument beside them, no. Just a few yards in front of them was Russia, sitting in a simple wooden chair, smiling cheerfully at nothing. Perhaps he was simply basking in the little fights around him. But Australia would have none of that. The Aussie snuck up behind the larger nation, whispering five words- "Belarus is looking for you". That was all it took for Russia to bolt up out of the chair and run for his dear life, leaving Australia on the floor laughing.

England observed all of this in amusement, a small glass of America's beer in his hand. Usually he would prefer a bit of rum or whiskey, but for now, beer would suffice. The blonde nation glanced around the room, searching for the birthday boy, but he was no where to be found. He frowned, it was his party, where the devil could he be? With a sigh, he started off to look for his former colony.

But as he walked through the halls of the mansion, Arthur couldn't help but feel reminiscent of the time when said boy was his colony, a small boy under his care, bringing a little more light into his life with every smile. He chuckled lightly, he was starting to sound like a sentimental old man. Those days were long past, but it wasn't necessarily a bad thing, they were simply in a new day- with new adventures and annoyances.

"Bloody hell, where am I?" Arthur asked himself as he was brought out of his thoughts. He found himself in a part of the house he no longer remembered, a wing he hadn't visited much. "Alfred!" He called out, hoping the idiot was somewhere nearby. He took a few stepped forward, before he noticed a door hanging slightly open, but the inside was pitch black.

Curiosity got the best of him, pushing him to the door. England opening the door, squeaking on its hinges, as if it hasn't been opening until recently after a century of dormancy. Stepping in, he realized that there wasn't much light, or a light switch, so he had to make do with the light streaming in from the hallway. It was an old storage room, covered in thick layers of dust. He noticed, though, that a few items didn't hold as much grim as the others, meaning that they had been recently picked up.

At first, he didn't recognize them, but eventually, the objects snapped into his memory. Closest to him was an old, navy blue suit. To his right, sitting on an old chest, was a forgotten toy soldier set. The room was filled with things that brought up many memories, good and bad. Arthur's breath hitched in his throat when he spotted the musket lying on the floor, a single scratch on the wood making him cringe. Still though... He smirked. It was almost hard to believe that Alfred had kept these things all those years.

Maybe there was hope for the git, yet.

**XXXXXXXXXXXX**

Alfred smirked, wiping the sweat off his brow with his fore arm. He had left the party about 20 minutes ago to help set-up the fireworks display, and was finally done. "Wait until Matt sees this, he'll love it." He smirked. Clapping the dirt off his hands, he turned around and headed inside. Upon opening the door, he was met with a great sight, his friends having a good time at his party. It brought on a sense of satisfaction. Shaking his head, Alfred brought himself back to the task at hand- finding his brother.

He passed through the main living room, where most of the other nations were, looking left a right for him. Granted, it wasn't surprising that he couldn't seem to see him. Matthew had always had a way of... blending into his surroundings. The only people who ever really recognized him were himself, France and sometimes England- and even to them, he slipped under the radar at times. To everyone else, well, their eyes seemed to pass over him, unless he drew attention to himself. It wasn't out of spite, or ignorance, Matt was just... shy.

Alfred sighed, nearly giving him when he ended up by the food table. His brother would just have to wait with everyone else, even if he would have wanted to make sure everything was secure; paranoid as he was. But just as he was about to give up, he picked up on two voices, speaking in the same tongue, but with different accents. He looked in the direction of the noise, finding Canada and France around the corner, small glasses in their hands, simply leaning against the wall and talking. Matthew seemed to be a tad upset about something, which triggered a small from on Alfred's face.

"Je veux dire, je m `pas jaloux ou quoi que ce soit, on se sent comme personne ne se soucie...'' Matthew muttered, his head hanging low.

''Bien sûr, tout le monde se soucie, Matthieu. Vous venez de... eh bien, vous...'' Francis trailed off.

''Ouais, je m`invisible. Je sais.'' The Canadian said quietly, distaste dripping in his words.

Francis quickly cut in. ''Aucun Matthieu, vous n'êtes pas invisibles. Vous êtes juste un garçon timide. Vous et votre frère sont différents, il est un peu plus sociable que vous, il jette les grands partis. Votre parti a été merveilleuse, simple. Ne pas le comparer à la sienne.''

Matthew shook his head and sighed, taking a sip of his drink. ''Je sais, je viens de ... presque personne ne vint. Personne ne se soucie du Canada, ou son anniversaire. C'est une question de l'Amérique, je suis toujours dans son ombre.''

Now, Alfred could not speak french to save his life, he barely spoke Spanish, but with his short time with France before England became his guardian, he had picked up on a few words, and he definably knew his own name. His eyes brows furrowed- trying to translate as much as he could. As far as he could tell, Matthew was upset because no one paid attention to him, even on his birthday.

His birthday party had only been 3 days ago, over at his place. He had invited everyone, but hardly anyone showed up. Just France, England, himself, and Finland. Matt had seemed fine with it, just happy that he was celebrating his birthday with his friends, but even Alfred could see that he was torn up.

The young nation sighed. He had never meant to overshadow his brother, it just... happened. Ever since they were children, raised by their mother Native America, they had been different, but in a way that balanced each other out. Alfred was wild, free spirited, and loud. Matthew was sweet, free spirited, and shy. It was usually the case with a lot of twins, and they were no different, despite being nations. But for some reason, Alfred had been put in the spot light, Matthew hiding at the edge. America had ignored it for a long time, not really wanting to realize he was even himself ignoring his brother, but he vowed, no more. He would no longer stand aside while his brother was being forgotten.

Alfred smirked, a crazy idea popping into his head.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

A group of teenagers sat around a round desk, feet up, lounging lazily on their chairs. They were all young men, around 18 years old, dressed in rugged clothing. They certainly didn't have their mother's check their wardrobe- or their company for that matter. The dank air of the old shed they were in was filled with the stench of weed, mixed with their drunken breath.

The door creaked open, letting no more light in on the clear July night. Another young man walked in, a bag in one hand, and what seemed to be a rolled up paper in the other. He dropped the paper onto the table with a soft thump, the title page looking up at them.

Happy Independence Day 2012 America.

Who celebrates Independence Day better than Washington DC? No one of course. The political leasers are all getting into party mode here in DC, including President Obama...

''Alright, what is this, and why do we care?'' One of them asked, his voice slightly slurred.

''Skip to paragraph eight.'' The new comer ordered, taking up a chair.

''Which one is that?''

''The eighth one, dumb ass.''

''Alright, alright.'' He replied, taking a closer look at the paper, squinting his eyes to ease the alcoholic vision. He read aloud.

19 year old Adviser, Alfred F. Jones of the 1700's Jones manner, is throwing his annual party, an exclusive affair on the inside, but as always the fireworks display will be seen by everyone on the West side, starting at 11:00. Set up your lawn chairs everyone, you're in for a treat! As always, the display shows symbolization in American pride, with the addition of a representation of all other countries, but no show every year is the same.

All occupants of the shed turned their attention to the news bearer, sick grins spreading across their mouths. Their leader, the last one to enter, straitened himself in arrogant pride. ''You know what I'm thinking boys.''

''A bit of fun with Jones? Barely seen the guy since High School.''

''Little prick went straight from school to the white house.''

''Family business he said.''

''What does it matter? The bastard walked around the place like he was some kind of hero. Always talking about how he was gonna make this country better, acting like he was too good for us.'' The leader grinned, slipping a small pistol out of his pocket.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Well, what do you think? The whole, 'plate moving' thing will come in later, just in case you're wondering. I just thought I'd put in some back story first.

Oh, and here's the English translation of France and Canada's conversation.

Matt: I mean, I'm not jealous or anything, It just feels like no one cares...

Francis: Of course every one cares, Matthieu. You just...well, you...

Matt: Yeah, I`m invisible. I know.

Francis: No Matthieu, you are not invisible. You are just a shy boy. You and your brother are different, he is a little more outgoing than you, he throws bigger parties. Your party was wonderful, simple. Do not compare it to his.

Matt: I know, I just...hardly anyone came. No one cares about Canada, or his birthday. It's all about America, I'm always in his shadow.

Reviews? Russia wants you to... : D


	3. Party Crashers

**A/N: Read on and don't kill me~**

**Warning: Offensive racial slurs. All for the effect of the story. I love you all...**

**XXXXXXXXXXXX**

"Alright, everyone outside, the fire works are ready!" Alfred called out over the crowd. Of course, he could have just simply shouted it, but no, he had to run upstairs so he could proclaim it from the highest point on the banister. Idiot.

But, it was a party, and so everyone was in too good a mood to call him out on it. So, the world walked outside, through large glass doors and into Alfred's backyard. The lot was spacious to say the least, seeing as how as a Nation, he need his secrecy. The lush, mowed grass rolled out into the dense forest surrounding the estate, closing it in from the outside world.

Alfred had somehow managed to get outside ahead of everyone and was standing in front of the crowd of murmuring nations. His sky blue eyes scanned the group, finding England just walking out the door to join Canada, and begrudgingly, France. Good thing Arthur had a handy glass of whiskey. Starting with his famous grin, he began to address his guests.

"Thanks for coming everyone, and I hope you're having a great time. The fireworks I've got set up this year are especially awesome, in honour of the 4th of July... and the 1st, also known as Canada day." He paused, soaking in Matthew's shocked expression and the surprised whispers all around the crowd. "Matt helped me set everything up earlier, because this year we're celebrating both of our birthdays."

England leaned over to whisper into Canada's ear. "Do you know what's going on?"

Canada shook his head. "I had nothing to do with this. Must've thought of it on his own." He smirked. "What a guy..."

"Alright, here we go!" America shouted excitedly, producing a remote control from his pocket. "Now, I just hope those last minute alterations won't blow up all of Washington..." He added under his breath so that no one else could hear.

With fingers crossed, Alfred pushed the button to activate the fireworks. Immediately, the first round shot up, exploding high up in the air. At first they were simple, just like any normal display. But as time went on, they become more an more complex,making one subtle tribute to each of the other Nations.

By the time Canada's added, longer portion went up- his flag, polar bears, maple leaves, and one even looked a bowl of poutine- America had made his way over to his stunned brother. The bright lights reflected in his glasses, adding to his wide eyed smile. "Wow Al..." He breathed,

"No problem." America grinned, already knowing by some twin telepathy thing that his brother was thanking him.

"No really, I mean, this is just amazing!" The Canadian laughed in delight, pulling his brother in for a tight hug. America laughed along with him, returning the bro-hug, patting his back before he pulled away.

"This really was a good thing for you to do." England commented.

Alfred scratched the back of his neck with a sheepish smile. "It wasn't that big a deal, but thanks."

The four of them watched the remainder of the fireworks in comfortable silence, marvelling in the show, and living in the peace of the moment. As the explosions grew more frequent and more extravagant, Arthur braced himself for what he knew was coming next- The Revolution Scene. Every bloody year, America had a little segment on the Revolution, and every bloody year, Arthur had to relive that bloody war. He would never admit it, but it hurt. So, he held himself strong as he waited for it to begin.

It never did. In fact, Arthur noticed, it didn't involve any scene of war at all. The finale covered the sky before them, a giant display of the earth, ending with a large round of applause from the other Nations, who after went back to their own idle chatter. The crowd began to disperse around the yard, leaving only America and England secluded in their spot.

Arthur's head shot to the taller young man, who smiled to himself, still staring up at the starry sky. "Alfred, you..."

"Yeah. I guess I just finally realized that not everyone only looked at the bright side of our past. So, this year I figured I should cut the whole 'war' theme. We're in a time of mutual peace, we shouldn't be dwelling on war." America explained, his eyes remaining on the sky, until he finished, when he smirked at the flustered nation.

"America...when did you grow so mature?" England asked, wide emerald eyes astounded.

America, sighed slightly, running his hand through his hair as he thought back. "I don't know, man. I guess, maybe it was during the Big Three crash back a few years. I was terrified that it would be another Great Depression, so I tried to smarten up. I went back to school, I tried to understand my people better, and it worked. I just didn't want to let everyone down again." He paused, grinning down at Arthur. "Heroes aren't suppose to let my fellow nations down!"

England elbowed him in the side with quirked lips. "Maybe you aren't so mature after all... just a little smarter." Alfred continued grinning though he double over slightly at the elder nation's jab. He looked back at Arthur, whose deep emerald gaze was penetrating his own. His eyes softened as he was drawn in, both only slightly aware that they were slowly getting closer to-

"Everyone freeze!"

Alfred and Arthur jerked away from each other with a start as a group of masked men jumped out of the woods, swarming around the crowd, completely cloaked in black to conceal their identities. Each one held a gun of various kinds, loaded and pointing at the crowd of nations. Now, these were nations mind you, each having lived through countless wars. As such, they were conditioned to remain calm and calculated in this kind of situation.

"Hands where we can see them!" Another man shouted.

The nations obeyed, their bodies tense, their faces collected as they raised their hands in the air. Once reassured that they had the group under control, the men relaxed a bit, if only to approach them with arrogance in their strides.

"Now, now, what do we have here." One said, all present able to hear the grin in his voice though his face was covered. "It looks like a fucking party mix." He began to point the gun directly at them as he walked down the line. Pointed at France, "A faggot," Russia, "a Commie," Romano, "a Wop," Germany, "and oh look, a Nazi."

Ludwig tensed as if to strike, his mask dropping at the simple mention of his country's past. The man cocked the gun. "Ah ah ah, we don't want any accidents, do we?" Germany looked to his left, seeing Prussia sending him the same look he gave him when he was a kid, clearly saying_ 'Don't do it.' _With a low, inaudible huff, Ludwig slipped back into indifference.

Satisfied that he had shown them who was in charge, the man walked back to the rest of the black clad criminals. "Now, one hand drops. We want all of your money, wallets, whatever you've got, right here." He tapped his foot in front of him.

That was where the thugs met their mistake.

Faces still stone, they slowly dropped a hand down to their pockets- only to pull out their own weapons. No one knew where Russia managed to hide a machine gun.

"Right to bare arms, sounded like a good idea at the time." Alfred cursed under his breath as he held his pistol in proper form, unlike the thugs before them.

The men seemed to become panicked at the amount of weaponry pointed at them. "Put the guns down! I SAID PUT THE FUCKING GUNS DOWN!" Their leader screeched in fear.

"You have to right to say anything right now." England barked.

Veneziano, holding his own gun the way Germany taught him, glanced around at his fellow Nations. It seemed that between them and the thugs, neither would back down- the criminals if only for their fear of getting caught or out numbered. It could very well come to a bullet shower, and he knew this, but it was the last thing he wanted. And so, always a lover, not a fighter, North Italy stepped forward to try to negotiate, surprising everyone. "Please, we can just-"

_**BANG**_

It all happened too fast. In panic of the out of control situation, the leader fired at Italy. The bullet lodged itself into Italy's right forearm, pushing him back. He fell into Japan, though he remained standing, crying in pain and clutching his bleeding arm.

"Italy!" Both Germany and Japan shouted. Not caring if he was shot at too, Ludwig dashed to the smaller young man's side.

The criminals, in their terror, ran back into the forest they came from, dropping their weapons and tripping over themselves as they fled. The nations, though would not let them get away after hurting innocent little Italy. "Vaffonculo!" Romano cursed, running after them along with an enraged Spain, America, England, France, Prussia, Japan and the other more vengeful-natured countries.

Germany, however, stayed behind, no matter how much he wanted to shoot the bastards. Italy needed him more. "Let me see." He commanded, though his voice remained gentle.

Italy bit his lip, moving his hand, revealing his navy shirt soaked in blood, dripping down his hands. Germany cursed, before shedding his jacket and pressing his firmly over the wound, bracing Italy's shoulder with his other hand. Feliciano whimpered at the pressure.

"W-We should call an ambulance..." Liechtenstein whispered, stepping out from behind her big brother since she didn't have a gun.

"No, Lili. The blood of a nation is different from the blood of a human. We can't let the world know what we are, it would cause too much commotion." Switzerland explained

Ludwig paid no attention to the panicked murmurs around him, his eyes souly on the bleeding boy. Without him noticing, Matthew had run over. "Come on, Alfred has an infirmary in the back. We can fix him up there." Germany nodded. Matthew looped Feliciano's uninjured arm over his shoulders and helped Ludwig into the house.

**XXXXXXXXXXXX**

It wasn't suppose to be like this.

They were suppose to be enjoying the fireworks display, having a good time, and forgetting about the fact that they were centuries, millennial for some, old. It was suppose to be a night to remember, but not in this way. Those were America's thoughts as he chased the little bastards that had ruined everything, and hurt Italy.

After what seemed like days, they stumbled into a small clearing. The change in surroundings distraught the band of criminals, causing them to hesitate for a split second- all the nations needed. Romano was the first to strike, tackling the closest to the ground in a flurry of punches. Out numbered, out sourced and out smarted, the young men fell all too quickly.

"This- is- for- mio- Fratello!" Romano shouted, putting emphasis with each blow. He repeatedly struck the young man's face, long after he had passed out, nasty bruises forming on his skin.

"Lovino! Stop, he's done!" Spain called to his former charge, pulling him off the young man. Romano struggled against the stronger man's hold before he finally backed off, stomping away from the bloody mess he left. Antonio walked after him, trying to get him to calm down.

The unconscious thugs were pulled into a heap in the middle of the clearing, America holding onto his a little longer. He held him up by the collar of his shirt. "Who the hell are you?" He demanded.

The man, the one who had shot Feli either coughed or chuckled, it was difficult to tell. "What, you don't even remember me, Jones?"

"What..." Alfred knew that voice. With trembling hands, he reached up and pulled the black covering off his head, revealing a familiar face. "G-Gregory Johnson?" He muttered in shocked. Greg grinned up at him, in that sick, twisted way the monsters do in your worst nightmares.

"Miss me?"

With a furious cry, Alfred punched him straight across the face, knocking him out in a less than humain way. He stopped for a moment to even his fast, ragged breath, not noticing when England walked up behind him.

"You knew him?" He asked, quietly.

"Yeah... remember when I went back to school a while ago? To understand my people a bit better?Well, he was one of those ass holes who gave everyone a hard time. Wasn't too fond of me because I was always the one sticking up for everyone." Alfred explained, not moving from his spot.

"I see... so he had a vendetta against you." Arthur knelled down beside the younger man.

"Yeah but... nothing to this extreme. He must've taken one dark path out of school." America looked down at his battered face, taking note of the hollow cheeks and dark circled eyes. "A few years in prison ought'a set him on track. After what he did to Feli, all because he had a little grudge against me..."

Before he knew it, Arthur was sitting on the ground in front of him, placing his hand on the younger nation's back. "I see where this is going America. It is not your fault. You had no idea what was going to happen, you couldn't have prevented it." England stated.

Alfred released a shaky sigh, not allowing himself to look weak in front of England. "But if I had better control over my people..."

"No. Don't you dare blame yourself."Arthur shook his head.

Alfred let himself fall limp into the older nation, burying his face in his shoulder. "Too late..."

**XXXXXXXXXXXX**

**So, yeah, now you may all have an idea of why America will feel he has something to prove XD**


	4. Wanker

**A/N: I DARE you to translate Arthur's spell :3 It'll come out in weird English though, I trust you are capable of decoding it XD**

**XXXXXXXX**

The atmosphere could be cut with a knife. The only sounds in the area were of America's phone call to the police to pick up the criminals. The rest of the group sat scattered around the clearing, lost in their own thoughts. Most revolved around the same disease: intolerance.

It was something they had all experienced in their long lives as nations. Some people were just born with sticks up their asses, and couldn't understand different cultures. Hate crimes, racism, religious wars, they had all suffered through them. But to experience it again, personally, after such a long time, and during an age of peace; it was a bit of a slap in the face.

"Yes, they had tried to break into my home, and I've found traces of marijuana on them... they began to bicker amoungst themselves and ran off into the woods out back...I heard sounds of fighting... Yes...yes, thank you. You have a good night too." America snapped his cell phone shut, stuffing it lazily into his pocket. He stood still, trying to let some of the tension fall from his body in a tired sigh.

England watched from behind him, suppressing the concern that was rolling off of him in waves, not only for America, but everyone affected that night. It had been a horrible experience for them all, and he was sure that America was dealing with it the worst. The blonde was use to being the Hero, not feeling helpless and guilty when someone he knew was hurt.

"They'll be here in 10 minutes, we should get back to the house and stash the evidence..." Alfred suggested suddenly. It killed him to know that those boys had committed a far more serious crime than he had told that police, and they wouldn't get punished for it. They couldn't, if the police knew they had shot Feli, they'd want to take him to a hospital, and therefore blow a worldwide secret. "I just hope they were wasted enough to mess with their memories."

A spark of hope. England stepped up to the plate, finally feeling as if he were something of use for the first time that night. "I know a small spell that will alter their memories." He offered, almost shyly considering many nations didn't quite understand his magic.

Alfred gave him a sliver of a smile. "Then do your thing." He said with a small hand gesture to the heap of useless bodies.

Arthur nodded firmly, walking up to the subjects with a sudden confident heir. He studied them for a moment, before kneeling on the ground and using his finger to scratch out ancient runes in the grass. He repeated this five times around them, in a circle, until he was back where he started With satisfaction in his work, he reached into he shirt, producing a silver pentacle on a chain, something he always wore hidden, just in case. A silence filled with anticipation filled the clearing and everyone in it, the nations watching intently in suspense.

Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, England began to chant quietly in Latin, his words carried by the ghostly wind that danced around him. _"Subjugale mutum story consummans te!"_ The runes etched onto the grass began an unearthly glow, the silver light leaking slowly into the circle, enveloping the unconscious bodies. It grew steadily stronger, until disappearing in a bright flash. Uneasy silence flowed through the night.

"That should do it." England concluded, slightly out of breath.

"You okay?" Alfred asked, noticing his fatigue.

"I'll be fine." Arthur waved him off. "Spells usually leave one a bit zapped of energy."

"Well then, we'd better get back to the house, check on Italy. Matthew probably already brought him into the infirmary." Alfred suggested. It had been a long night for everyone, and he was sure that after seeing that Feli was in good care, and a good cup of coffee, things would wind down.

**XXXXXXXXXXXX**

"Stop squirming." Germany ordered as he fastened the bandage on Feliciano's shoulder. The young man sat on the table of Alfred's infimary, his shirt cut off and tossed in the waste basket. He winced every time Ludwig adjusted the gauze, squirming in his seat.

Germany sighed, as he finished with the bandage. He let the tension of the night fall from his muscles as he ran his fingers through his slicked hair, causing it to fall out of order in some places- but he didn't care. He cared that Italy was safe.

The infirmary had been a blessing. It had just what he needed to patch the Mediterranean Nation up. Though he never feared Italy dying from the wound- nations weren't the same as humans. They couldn't be mortally wounded, unless their entire country, land and people, were destroyed. Of course, there were rumours of other ways... but no nation had ever gone that far, which honestly surprised him...

Ludwig barely noticed it when someone knocked lightly at the door. He casually turned his head to see America and the rest of the Nations who had run off after the criminals standing in the doorway. "Hey, how're you holding up, Feli?" Alfred asked as he walked in.

"Germany fixed it! He said I won't be able to do things like paint or cook on my own for a while though." Italy added in disapointment.

Ludwig shook his head. "He'll be fine. I checked up on an Italian news website. The shot resulted in a small meteor hitting the town of Feltre. No one was hurt, though there was a lot of damage." He explained.

"Good to hear." Alfred nodded. "You're welcome to stay, pretty much everyone else has gone home anyway. You guys too." He said, addressing the group at the door. "I'm gonna go down and clean up." And with that, he disappeared through the door, a few of the other nations following him offering their help.

"You did a good job." Germany barely heard Romano muttered. He sat in slight shock for a moment. Was Romano actually saying something nice to him? "Don't get me wrong Potato Bastard, I still hate your guts. But maybe, just not as much as before. I mean, you saved his life...so yeah, shut up." He finished, crossing his arms in a pout.

"Aw, Lovi, that was so nice!" Spain exclaimed, attacking Romano in a crushing bear hug.

"C-Cut it out bastard!" Lovino shouted, trying unsuccessfully to push Antonio off of him.

Germany rolled his eyes at his commrades, while Italy laughed, carefree. Ludwigs glanced over at him, a sudden thought coming to mind. "You know, you were very brave Italy."

"Huh?" Italy asked, clearly not use to hearing those words.

"You tried to stop them. It was very brave of you." Germany smiled, as much as he normally would anyway, ruffling Feliciano's hair.

"Yeah, and stupid." Romano cut in. "Christ Fratello, you scared me shitless." He huffed, something he would only admit to his brother.

"Sorry." Italy pouted.

"You should have seen him, mi amigo. Little Lovi here was like an angry little bull, running after those asnos." Spain commented, slinging an arm around Lovino's neck.

"Get off me!" Romano shouted.

"Wow, you did that for me Fratello?" Feliciano asked, his face brightening.

After Romano managed to pry Spain off of him, he returned to his usual 'piss off' attitude. "Yeah well, if anyone's gonna beat the crap out of you, it's gonna be me."

Veneziano laughed, one of the only nations able to understand 'Romanonesse' and hear that he was really just happy his brother was alright. "Thank you Fratello."

**XXXXXXXXXXXX**

Alfred couldn't help but notice, as he and a few others were straightening things up, that England was moving sluggishly, as if every move took just a little more effort than normally. Arthur was picking up torn streamers and the like, and stuffing them into the trash bags, but it seemed like even than was causing him to become a tad out of breath. "Hey Iggy, we're almost done here, why don't you head upstairs and get some rest? You look like crap." He suggested.

Arthur scoffed, trying vainly to hide his fatigue. "Well thank you, wanker, but I'm perfectly fine and- Hey! Put me down!" He shouted.

America, having had enough of his lame ass facade, lifted him over his shoulder in a fireman's carry, heading up the stairs. "I'll be right back down guys." He called over his shoulder to those who stayed to help clean up.

"Sod off, damn American prat! Put me down!"

England continued to fight and struggle to be free of America's grasp, with no success of course, until he found himself landing on his butt on something incredibly soft- Alfred's bed. He looked up at the taller young man, slightly confused and very out of breath, considering how tired he was before. "Just sleep up here, kay? The other guest rooms are taken, so I'll probably just grab a cot or- quit looking at me like that!" Alfred couldn't help but laugh.

Arthur pouted up at him, trying his best to look menacing while fighting off the sleep that was about to overtake him. He just ended up looking like a kicked puppy sitting on his bed. "I'd punch you if I had the energy." He threatened.

"I know. Now, sleep." America smirked, poking the Briton's shoulders who, without any strength to keep himself up, fell back onto the pillows.

Arthur was about to complain, raising himself onto his elbows, only to find that Alfred had already left, shutting the door behind him. He huffed, continuing to glare at the door, as if he would burn away the wood, followed by the back of his head. Shaking his head, he realized he must be really tired if he was resorting to taking his anger out on the door with his eyes. And so, he fell back onto the bed, sinking into the mattress. Damn, America's bed was soft. It also, he noticed as he shed his outer clothing leaving only his boxers and T-shirt, smelt like Alfred- like open air, rushing water, rolling fields and never ending woods.

England allowed himself a small, relaxed smile, letting the scent wrap around him as he drifted off to sleep.

**XXXXXXXXXXXX**

**July 4th 2012**

**A small meteor hits the east of Northern Italy. The majority of volunteers who travelled to help were American, Canadian and German. Death tole was none, with few were injured. Though Italy's economy did not suffer, the town was destroyed and went through complete rebuilding.**

**XXXXXXXXXXXX**

**G'night loves.**


	5. No Sweat!

**A/N: And here it is! The long awaited 5th chapter! I know it's not much, but I'm building it up. I also wanted to make this a lighter chapter after the little bit of drama. All things in moderation!**

**XXXXXXXXXXXX**

"Iggy! Come on man, wake up!" A loud, obnoxious voice pierced through his sweet dreams.

Arthur Kirkland cracked open his eyes, only to immediately shut them at the blinding light. He groaned, rolling over. "L've m'lone." He muttered, only to find himself with a face full of pillow seconds later. Arthur quickly sat up and swung wildly at his attacker, swiping at air. At the edge of the bed, Alfred sat with a stupid grin, one day holding up a pillow.

"What the devil do you want?" England nearly growled, stifling a yawn.

"Dude, it's two in the afternoon. I was just making sure you were alive."

"Wha-" Arthur glanced at the clock on America's night table. "How did I sleep in so late?" He asked himself. Normally he was an early riser.

"Beats me." Al shrugged. "You must've been super tired from doing that spell thingy last night. Or maybe you just had too much to drink!"

Arthur rolled his eyes as he pushed himself out of bed. "I did not have too much to drink."

"Whatever you say, Iggy."

"Are the others still here?" England asked, ignoring the previous comment.

Alfred shook his head. "Nah, they all left about two hours ago. It's just you and me dude."

"Oh, just wonderful."

**XXXXXXXXXXXX**

After a rather uneventful lunch (breakfast for Iggy), Alfred offered to drive the Brit down to the airport. Of course, Arthur had argued that he was perfectly capable of getting himself there, he found himself an hour later standing in front of the terminal for flight with the damn American standing beside him.

"Flight A-19, non-stop to London, England is now boarding First Class passengers." A flight attendent's voice echoed over the P.A.

"That's me." Arthur sighed as he picked up his suit case.

"Right... hey, Arthur?" Alfred said, stopping him just as he was about to get into line.

Cocking an eyebrow, Arthur turned back to America. "Yes?"

"Um... nothing. Just keep in touch." Alfred smiled.

Arthur mirrored the grin softly. "Sure thing. Of course. Maybe next time you can visit me instead."

"That would be so awesome! We could hang out, and eat, and do whatever it is you do for fun in Britain!" Alfred went on excitedly.

"Calm down, git. I said maybe!" Arthur snapped back to his usual grumpy self as he stalked off toward the gate.

"See ya then, Artie!"

**XXXXXXXXXXXX**

It had been two months since the Independence Day fiasco. The nations who had stayed to help clean up and make sure Feli was okay had left the day after, leaving Alfred to go back to his "Adviser" position in the White House (which of course really meant working with his boss). The dust had settled, everything was back to normal.

But there was a constant nagging in the back of Alfred's head that told him he couldn't quite get over it. In his two hundred years as a country, and hundreds longer before that, he had never been attacked by his own people with such animosity. He had been mugged, beaten and insulted, but never had it happened because of such a personal grudge. He shouldn't have let something like that happen, there must have been something he could have done...

Shaking his head, Alfred forced himself out of the staff kitchen and out into the halls of the White House. This place meant more to him than anything. It was one of those few places that evolved with time but truly never changed. He quite literally knew it inside and out, having wandered off and explored it too many times to count.

His cerulean eyes travelled over the paintings and decorative vases that lined the hallway, not paying any attention to the hallway ahead of him. His feet knew where to take him as if automatically, and there was usually no one out at this hour of the afternoon. Everyone else was on lunch break, but he had finished early and got bored.

Perhaps though, he should have paid more attention to where he was going, if only to avoid colliding with another person. Stumbling back, he was met with Bill Kingston's dull, fishy eyes, and he instantly gave a mental groan. Not this guy...

"Jones. Watch where you're going." The 46 year old hissed as he picked up the brief case he had dropped.

"Sorry, dude- I mean Mr. Kingston." Alfred quickly corrected himself. No matter how long he had worked in the White House, he always seemed to forget that calling people "Dude" was inappropriate. Some habits aren't meant to be broken.

Bill glared at him, before straightening his fine pressed suit. "You're lucky you are even here Mr. Jones. Not everyone is appointed Adviser fresh out of High School. I suggest you learn some respect."

Alfred's eyes narrowed. "It was an honest mistake, it could have happened to anyone."

"And yet, it always seems to happen to you." Kingston snapped. "Listen carefully, boy. Learn. Your. Place."

"I believe his place is higher on the chain of command than yours, Mr. Kingston." A woman's voice came from down the hall, her New York accent heavy. Bill's head whipped around to find a woman of about 40 standing just meters from them, arms crossed and hip cocked in her red blazer and grey pencil skirt. Her ruby red lips were set in a confident smirk, her dark brown eyes shinning. Rich brown hair fell in loose curls to her shoulder, tucked behind her ears. Her black heels clacked on the stone floor as she approached them.

Bill smiled, obviously forced. "Madam Vice President."

She nodded in return, not buying his mask. "Mr. Jones was chosen for his position on fair grounds, Mr. Kingston. He is a respectable, mature young man. Though I am quite sure you never doubted that." She clicked her tongue.

Kingston sneered. "Of course not. Have a nice day, Madam V.P. Mr. Jones." Sending one last glare Alfred's way, he continued on his way, disappearing around the corner.

As soon as he was out of sight, Alfred let the tension slip from his shoulders, slumping over with a sigh. "Thanks Maria. I don't know what I ever did to piss that guy off..."

Maria shook her head. "He's just a miserable man, Alfred. It's no secret he holds a grudge against you for taking 'his' position. Bill's been kissing as much ass as he can for years to get the Adviser position, and he's still not even close." She smiled up at him, holding out her elbow. "Now, walk me to the Oval Office, young man?"

Linking his arm through hers, he grinned. "Yes Mam."

Alfred loved Maria Stout- but not like that, ew. Even before she became Vice President, she had always been a sort of mother figure to him. She kind, but stern and knew what she believed in, and she was also one of the few humans who truly knew him; America. She kept him in line, and was always there to come to his rescue; which was a lot, considering his diaria of the mouth.

"Knock, knock!" Alfred shouted when they arrived at the Oval Office doors.

"Who's there?" A voice called from inside.

"Interrupting Cow!'

"Interrupting Co-?"

"Moooo!"

A burst of deep, rolling laughter was muffled by the door between them before a man called out, "Get in here, Jones!" As Alfred opened the oak doors and stepped into the infamous office, a grin was immediately plastered on his face. Sitting at his desk was Daniel Winston, current President of the United states. He was a fairly young man as far as presidents usually were, at 43. His dark hair was greying just the slightest at his temples, the laugh lines on his face showing that when he smiled, he smiled big, as he was at the moment. "That one was pathetic, Jones."

Alfred smirked as he shook the mans hand. "Then why'd you laugh?"

"I was amused by how terrible it was. I hope that doesn't affect the nation's humour, we'd have one sad country." Daniel patted America on the shoulder.

"No sir, my humour is 100% original."

The President's smile seemed to falter a moment. "Well, keep it up. Now, there is a reason I called you ."

Alfred frowned, as a heavier atmosphere leaked into the room. Maria unhooked her arm from America's and stepped back to better face him. "What is it?" He asked, almost certain now that Maria knew what was going on.

Turning toward the desk, the President turned a computer monitor toward the others. He pressed a button on the keyboard, the screen springing to life. A map of the Earth scrolled onto the screen, certain areas already highlighted. "You are familiar with that "2012 End-Of-The-World" nonsense, right?"

Alfred nodded, pursing his lips as he tried to figure out where this was going. "Well," The President continued, "I can assure you that the world is fine. However, there is some truth hidden in his urban legend. You see, on December 21, 2012- this year- all of the planets in our solar system will align. NASA has predicted a conflicted gravitational pull will occur, causing the Earth's plates to shift. We don't know what will happen exactly, but we have been assured that it won't be extreme. However, for extra care, we are issuing a nation wide plan to secure buildings and anything that could be affected. It's nothing to worry about, but I thought you should know."

Taking it in slowly, America nodded. "And what about the other nations? Have we warned them?" He asked.

Maria stepped up. "We sent them notification this morning."

"Okay then, no sweat!" Alfred proclaimed. Really it wasn't that big a deal in his eyes. His country was taking care of it, and his friends and fellow nations would too. So there really was nothing to worry about.

**XXXXXXXXXX**

**Regarding the whole "2012" thing, yes, I know it's all bullshit. I don't even know 100% sure if the planets are even going to align. I just figured it would be a good point to work from. So I don't want to hear any bitching about it.**


	6. Shift

**A/N: It's been such a pain trying to write this chapter. I wanted to have a little more time in between, but I figured there had been enough filler, and it was about time to move on, so I just skipped right on over to christmas. Which sucks, because now I'm in a christmasy mood, and it's just the beginning of November. **

**XXXXXXXXXXXX**

Christmas shopping was always an awkward situation for Alfred.

It was like some secret math equation that he could never figure out. Kiku was always hard because... well, a lot of the stuff in his stores came from Japan, so he had to get him something made in America: this year it was a really warm blanket, because he knew Kiku liked sitting on his porch when it snowed. Francis of course, would take _anything_ you gave him and turn it into some perverse joke, so this year, he was getting a funny card and bit of money, because he wanted nothing to do with what he did with it. When it came to Mattie, Al always liked to do something a little special. This year he was getting a book, a Tim Hortons card, and a polar bear hat he found; speaking of polar bears, he even got Kumakota...Kumajochi...whatever it's name was a biscuit. For the rest if his friends, he usually sent a card with a little something like some chocolate.

And then there was Arthur.

He... never knew what to do for Arthur in all honesty. He wasn't even sure if they were really friends sometimes. So what was he suppose to get him? Maybe something like some new tea flavours, or a cook book... wait no, he did that last year and England hit him with it saying "You think I can't cook, you bloody git?" Yeah, bad idea.

America frowned as he pushed his shopping cart down the isle, one foot planted on the bottom of the cart, the other pushing him forward so he could ride the cart through the store like a giant 5 year old. He scanned the shelves, trying to figure out what to do.

"Having trouble bud?" A voice asked from the other side of the isle. A man, about 26, stood watching Al with an amused expression.

Alfred blinked. "Uh, yeah..."

"Well, here's a tip. Keep it simple, but meaningful. Can't go wrong there. Nothing extravagant, but something that you've thought about."

Alfred pursed his lips in thought. "Makes sense... thanks, dude!"

"No problem." He said as he began to walk away. "Girlfriends can be a pain to shop for."

Blood rushed to Alfred's cheeks. "B-But he's not-!" But the man had already disappeared around the corner. Alfred sighed, the realization that the man was probably right about his dilemma almost depressing. At this point, their "relationship" really was that complicated. They were friends, they were enemies, they were somewhere in between; but he'd admit that he always had and always will care about England. Right now though, he was a pain in the ass.

With a sigh, Alfred decided that he just wasn't going to find anything today. So, he headed to the register, gathered his bags and braved the cold from the mall exit to his crappy old Mustang. Slipping his keys from his pocket, he fumbled with the lock, his arms full of bags hindering his ability to see and move. The key slipped out of his hand, clattering into the light layer of snow, and for the millionth time he mentally kicked himself for not getting a newer car with button lock. Placing the bags on the top of the car, he lowered himself to the ground to find it in the snow. Once found, he stood up, his eyes catching movement in the corner of his vision. Alfred looked to the left; and that's when he saw it. A guy just a few years older then him was loading one into his car. It was freaking huge, Iggy would probably want a smaller one, but the more he thought about it, the more perfect he realized it was.

The moment he loaded everything into his mustang and dropped himself into the cold drivers seat, Alfred took out his cell phone and hit speed dial. After a few ring tones, his brother picked up on the other end. "Hey Al."

"Mattie, I just figured out what to get Arthur for Christmas, but I'm going to need your help..."

**XXXXXXXXXXXX**

America's footsteps echoed on the hard wood of his home as he stepped inside from the garage. On the way home from the mall, he had called a local supplier and made an appointment to pick up Arthur's present in a few days, before he left for Canada.

Finland was having a Christmas party at his country home this year. He had invited everyone, but of course only a handful could make it. They were the Scandinavians, England, France, Latvia, Switzerland, Liechtenstein, Austria, Hungary, himself and Canada. Everyone else had made plans already. Since they were both going, the North American Brothers had decided to meet in Nova Scotia and just go over together. It would be a lot easier to transport England's present that way.

Alfred dropped his keys on his kitchen counter, before dumping his armful of bags lazily onto his couch. He flipped lazily through the tv channels, all he while his mind wandering through his plans. 'So it's the 21st now, I'm leaving for Halifax to on the 23rd..."

Something was wrong.

Alfred shot up from his lounging position on the sofa, his eyes narrowing, searching for something in the dead silence of his home. Something was wrong, different, the air was changing, but he couldn't place his finger on what was wrong, until he heard a low rumble. His heart skipped a beat.,

The rumbling grew and grew, until he could feel it vibrating in the floor boards, shaking the windows, growing and building. The entire house shook violently when it finally clicked; this was it. December 21st, 2012, the planets were alining, the plates were shifting. He could barely register the thought before the tall windows of his living room burst into sharp glass shards, falling to the ground like crystal rain. Alfred dove to the ground, covering his head with his arms. In one flash, he felt as if he were at war again, shrapnel flying all directions, cutting down his men. He didn't let the memory grow though, knowing he could freeze up. So, Alfred pushed himself underneath his coffee table, the closet shelter he could find. The shaking was the worst he'd felt in his life. Ten times were than any earthquake he'd ever felt.

A loud crack roared over the trembling, followed by pounding pain on the top of his head as a piece of his ceiling fell on top of the table, breaking the wood. Alfred released a sharp cry, barely heard over the noise, as slowly the darkness consumed him...

_Ring riiinnnggg..._

The sound was coming toward him, like it was underwater and slowly surfacing. America groaned, a splitting headache, peircing through his head. He slowly opened his eyes, startled to find himself buried under the wreckage of what use to be his coffee table and part of his ceiling. He shook the dust from his hair, taking in the rest of his surroundings. His windows were gone, and everything on his selves had fallen off, but his home was still standing; looks like those national preparations were worth something after all.

With a grunt, Alfred used is unnatural strength to dig himself out of the wreckage. He sound himself unbelievably sore, most likely a result of his country shifting over being pinned under his table. Slowly, he got himself free and reached his cell phone, which had fallen off the kitchen table during the quake. The screen was cracked, but apparently still working.

"Hello?" He said, surprised at how hoarse his voice was.

"A-Al? Holy shit, I've been trying to call you for 8 hours! Are you okay?" A frantic voice shouted from the other end, sounding close to tears.

Alfred rubbed his face, wiping the dirt from his skin. "I'm fine, Mattie. Knocked out for a bit, but fine. What about you?"

A relieved laugh came through"Everthing's good over here. Takes a lot more than the earth shifting to take the Canadian's down, eh? Tim Horton's is already opening back up, handing out free food to anyone who needs it."

"Why am I not surprised?" Alfred laughed. "Have you heard anything from anyone else?"

"I've been calling the other nations while trying to get ahold of you on my cell. Seems like everything's fine so far, not too much damage. The only one who hasn't been answering is you. You scared the shit out of me, and I'm willing to bet the others have been trying to call you too."

"Sorry, Matt." Alfred said as he leaned back against the kitchen counter. He paused, looking around at his house which currently had a hole in the roof and no windows. "Hey, uh, buddy? Mind if I head over a day early?"

**XXXXXXXXXXXX**

Matthew Williams stood in front of Gate A6, out of the way of the busy passengers loading off the plane from Washington DC to Halifax. He drummed his fingers idly against his side, looking for his own face in the crowd. Alfred had sent him the right gate in his text right? Because he'd been standing there forever, probably looking like an idiot, waiting for his brother to get off the plane. Usually, nations flew first class, so they got off first, but first class had gotten off at least half an hour ago. So where the hell was his brother?

An arm was suddenly slung around Matthew's neck, jerking him back and down with a yelp of surprise. Before an combat instinct could kick in, a fist began rubbing viciously into his forehead. "Hey there, little brother!" Canada fought his way free of his captor's hold, twisting the offending arm around and shoving the whole body to the ground. The assailant twisted his hand to grab Matthew's wrist, then rolled over until Matt hit the ground. Both lay on their backs. "Best two out of three?" The attacker laughed from beside him.

"You're such a jackass!" Matt laughed as he picked himself off the ground. "You can't just attack someone in the middle of an airport! We could have gotten arrested!"

Alfred grinned, untroubled. "Totally worth it, dude."

Canada rolled his eyes. "Where have you been, anyway?"

"Well, I got off like half an hour ago, but I couldn't see you, so I went to grab my bags and make sure England's present got here alright." Alfred shrugged.

Matthew raised a brow. "I was standing here the entire time, how could you not see me?"

"You were? Oh..."

"..."

"...Are you sure you don't have super invisibility powers?"

"Yes!"

**XXXXXXXXXXXX**

**Oohhh, what did Alfred get Arthur? **

**So now that we're moving on, heading towards the main plot, I think I'll be able to get chapters out sooner. I've just had a lot of school and stuff, so please forgive me if I'm too slow!**


	7. Tealights

**A/N: Alright, getting into the actual plot here soon. Oh, and a quick note on how I write Berwald; I dn't m'k h'm t'k l'k th's. It's annoying and takes away from the actual story.**

**XXXXXXX**

The drive up to Tino's winter cabin was amazing. Finland was one of those countries that they just didn't get to go to as often as others, which really was a shame. It was a truly beautiful, serene country, reflecting Tino's own nature. The Finnish countryside rolled by as Alfred and Matthew followed their vague directions to the cabin. The snow fell gently, covering the land in one large blanket. Alfred leaned his head against the passenger side window, slightly put off that Matt hadn't trusted him enough to drive in the snow. Pft, he was a great driver, and he'd have gotten them there an hour early too.

"There it is." Canada pointed toward a large wooden house nestled on a hill just a few kilometers up the road. It was a decent size, more than enough room for all of the nations staying. A barn sat just behind it, inside the fence of the reindeer's area. A few of them dared to brave the cold and snow, walking curiously to the edge of the fence to watch their car pull up.

Alfred drummed his fingers against his leg somewhat nervously. This would be the first time he saw anyone after the earth quake. Sure, from what Matthew had said, everyone was fine, but he was still worried. He pushed that thought to the back of his mind as the car came to a stop beside the barn. Alfred popped open his door, giving a small nod to his brother as he took the presents he'd gotten everyone from the trunk and immediately put them in the barn. He'd called Tino earlier to get permission to hide everything in there, and the Fin had even pointed out the best spot to put it all. Thank god too, he'd have no idea where to hide England's present; he had been worried enough about bringing it on the plane.

Once everything was hidden safely, and he double checked England's gift, America ran back out to the car to get his luggage. Together, the north american brothers walked up a small path to the front door. Matthew knocked twice, waiting patiently for someone to answer. The door was suddenly thrown open, revealing a severely pissed off Arthur who punched Alfred on the shoulder. "Idiot! I was worried sick!" He admonished.

Alfred couldn't help but laugh a little, holding his arm. "Sorry Iggy. I'll be sure to call the next time I'm buried under my own ceiling."

That of course earned him another good punch to the arm. "Bloody well better! I had to hear from Matthew that you were even alive!" He scowled before realizing Matthew was there too and giving him a friendly embrace. "Good to see you're well, Matthew."

"Same to you, Arthur." Matthew smiled.

"Well, come on inside." Arthur moved aside to let the two nations in. The inside of the cabin was nothing short of cozy. The walls were stone and dark wood, matching the floors. A wooden fireplace sat against the far wall of the living room, where a tall, beautifully decorated Christmas tree stood in one corner, surrounded by dark red couches and an intricately designed rug. The wide paned windows overlooked a small village settled down into the valley.

"Alfred, Matthew, glad you could make it!" The cheery voice brought their attention to Finland, just stepping out of the hallway. "Make yourselves at home! The bedrooms are upstairs, feel free to choose one." He smiled.

The twins nodded their thanks, about to head up the wooden, spiral staircase when they heard a soft crying from down the hall Finland had just come from. "What's that?" Alfred asked. Tino's face fell for a moment. Noticing this, Arthur stepped in.

"I'll explain, Tino." He offered, quickly ushering the boys up the stairs and into a room with two queen beds and a view of the valley. After the two had set their luggage down, Matthew turned to Arthur, sitting on his chosen bed.

"What's going on?" He asked, clearly becoming concerned.

Arthur sighed, choosing to lean against the window sill. He crossed his arms over his chest, eyebrows furrowed as he tried to decide how to go on. "Sealand... is gone." He said grimly.

Alfred shot up, heart leaping out of his chest. "Peter is-?"

"No, no, no." Arthur quickly interjected. "Peter is fine. He was staying with Berwald and Tino when the earthquake happened. But the platform... it's completely destroyed. The poor boy is devastated. Mys guess is he's surviving the same way Prussia is... no one knows." The guilt was clearly written across Arthur's face. Sure, he and his "little brother" didn't get along very well, but when it came down to it, he cared about Peter. He just... wasn't the best qualified to raise him. That's why he'd been elated to learned that Berwald had offered to adopt him. Peter was happy with Sweden and Finland, and to Arthur, that was what mattered. "My government is looking into restoring it, but it will take time, and money that might be hard to come by."

"Poor Peter..." Matthew frowned.

"Berwald is downstairs with him now, trying to get him to cheer up, but the boy just won't have it. I just hope he comes around before Christmas." Arthur racked his fingers through his hair. The doorbell rang obnoxiously downstairs, followed by the swinging open of the front door, and muffled exclamations. Denmark was here.

**XXXXX**

Really, the only reason he ever really ran the doorbell was because it was damn amusing. He never expected anyone to open the door for him fast enough to meet his standards, so he usually just let himself in anyway. "Yo! Tino, Berwald-y, your favourite is here!" He called out into the house, dumping his luggage carelessly onto the floor. Mathias kicked off his boots, just as Berwald came walking out of the hallways, a tired Sealand in his arms.

"Mathias." The Swed greeted.

"Hey, what's with little Petey?" Mathias asked, poking the boy's side. Peter simply buried his face into his adoptive father's neck, shunning out the rest of the world.

Sweden sighed. "He's a little upset..." He trailed off, hoping Mathias would understand. He'd told Denmark about what happened to Sealand right after the earthquake, when he and Tino were calling around to make sure everyone was safe.

Mathias nodded, for once seeming to understand what hadn't been said. "Ah, I see. Well, it's nothing a little but of time with Uncle Denny can't fix!" He grinned. "We'll go ice skating later, how does that sound? Maybe Canidia- I mean Canada will join us too!"

Peter peeked out shyly, sniffling as he answered. "That sounds like fun..."

"Hell yeah it does! We can even pretend we're vikings and pillage the town!" Mathias added.

Peter hesitated, before his eyes seemed to brighten up. "Okay."

"Awesome!" Mathias patted the boy on the back. "Why don't you go make us some viking gear and get your skates? Make sure it's extra scary!"

Peter nodded eagerly, scrambling down from Berwald's hold, before running off into the house to look for supplies. As soon as he was out of earshot, Mathias' expression seemed to dim. "Hey Berwald, when's everyone going to be here?" He asked, voice low.

The Swed frowned, wondering what had gotten into the usually hyper active nation. "Around seven. Why?"

"I got some interesting news from my government. I think we should all hear it." Denmark answered.

"Alright." Berwald shrugged, heading off to look for Finland. He paused before leaving the foyer, turning around to face the other nation again. "Oh, and thank you for helping cheer Peter up."

"Cheer him up? I just wanted to play vikings."

**XXXXXXX**

It wasn't until eight that night that everyone had finally arrived and settled in. The nations scattered around the living room. Norway and Iceland stood at the entrance, by the wooden pillars, trying to ignore Denmark. Switzerland leaned against the opposite pillar, waiting for the Dane to begin. Austria and Hungary took up the love seat against the wall. France and England of course stood on opposite sides of the room. America and Canada took up the rug on the floor by the fireplace. Finland and Sweden sat in their respective arm chairs. Sealand, Latvia, and Liechtenstein were playing outside in the snow.

"Denmark, will you get on with it already?" Switzerland asked impatiently.

Mathias, who was in the middle of poking Norway's cross, paused as if he just seemed to remember he had to say something. "Oh yeah!" He exclaimed, turning around and grabbing a satchel from behind the pillar. He set it on the coffee table, pulling out a laptop. "Okay, so I guess no one's noticed yet because of the earthquake and everything, but check this out." He opened the laptop and turned it on. "My government was doing a quick satellite survey to check out that damage, and look at what the found." As the screen flickered to life, a picture of the globe appeared, zeroing in on the Atlantic ocean, Right in the middle, was a landmass, not all the big, but enough to be alarming. It spread across the middle of the ocean, following an invisible line. A collective gasp spread across the room.

"Looks like it was made when the plates moved together..." Arthur commented.

"That's what they told me." Mathias said. "If it'd gone any further... it would have gone straight through Iceland."

Iceland of course didn't like that idea. He frowned, shifting on his feet. Norway nudged him with his elbow, a subtle way of comforting his brother. Neither were the most vocal nations, so that was enough.

Alfred stood up, trying to get a better look at the screen. "This place has been at the bottom of the ocean for... well, god knows since the dawn of the Earth. But with a little bit of work, it could become a new nation." He thought aloud.

"What are you getting at?" Austria asked.

"Well...what if we helped it out?"

Austria shook his head. "That's ridiculous."

"Why? I mean, we're all just coming out of the recession, money won't be hard to come by. Think about it," Alfred began to pace around the room, getting more and more excited about this idea, "we could all pitch in. This nation could be like... the mixing pot of the world! And if any of us ever get into fights again, this little nation would be the one to bring us back down to earth!"

"As much as I hate to say it..." Norway began. "But I think he's on to something."

"See? What could it hurt to try?" Alfred grinned.

"Well, let's not jump to any decisions." Canada stepped up, keeping his brother grounded. "We'll have to contact the other nations, our governments, and make sure we can actually work with that land."

"That sounds like a yes!"

"I said we'll think about it."

"That usually means yes."

"Shut up Al."

Before the twins could start squabbling, The back door flew open as Ravis and Lili ran in, laughing and shouting and shamelessly getting snow all over the floor. "Hey guys, look at what we made outside!" Ravis shouted excitedly.

"But bring your coats, it's cold outside." Lili added shyly.

Figuring that their discussion was over for now anyway, the older nations shuffled into the foyer, grabbing their boots and coats from the closet. After a good about of bickering in the limited space, they followed the kids outside into the cold finish night. The air spelt of pines and fresh mountain breezes, carrying light falling snow along with it. The young duo dragged the nations out into the back yard, looking down at the little town in the valley. Lights flickered down in the village, casting a warm glow on the mountain.

"Look! We made it!" Lili smiled, gesturing to a snow fort. They'd taken a few recycle bins and filled them with snow, packing them down before popping them out and stacking them on top of each other. The entire thing was easily taller than all of them, though not nearly as tall as the older nations. They'd even carved old castle-like designs into the sides, and stuck little tea-light candles on the top of the walls... which made Tino wonder when they'd snuck into the kitchen and taken them.

"It's very nice." Vash smiled slightly, putting his arm around his little sister.

"Nice? It's freaking awesome!" Alfred laughed, running over to check it out.

"Wait, there's one more thing!" Ravis exclaimed.

"What is it?" Alfred asked, now standing right in front of the snow castle.

"Snow ball fight!" A voice shouted from inside the castle. Peter popped up from behind the walls, armed with snow ball which he promptly threw in Alfred's face.

Sides were taken immediately. Lili pulled Switzerland into the fort with her, with Elizaveta and Berwald running in not far behind. That left Tino, Alfred, Matthew, Arthur, Francis, Mathias, Niklas, Geir and Rodrich exposed and being pelted with snow balls. The twins exchanged a grin before diving into the trees surrounding the area, using their cover to make their own snow balls. The others followed suite, soon launching their own cold weapons.

Laughter soon filled the mountain. Hungary landed a good hit right in Austria's hair, which he responded to by shaking it off and throwing his own snowball back, missing Hungary by an inch. Berwald had snuck out of the fort when no one was looking and snatched Tino from behind, throwing him over his shoulder. Tino laughed and pretended to fight back, but Berwald just smiled somewhat mischievously and stole him away to the castle.

Peter took a certain liking to pelting Arthur with snow balls. Alfred, playing the hero of course, jumped out of the over of the trees and tackled the Brit to the ground, saving him from a snowball to the head. Grinning like a mad man, Al propped himself up on his elbows looking down at Arthur, who was just recovering from the fall himself, smiling and shaking the snow from his hair. Both froze, realizing their position. A bright red blush slowly crawled up his cheeks, but before he could say anything, he was interrupted by Tino's call of. "I'm making hot chocolate! Come inside!"

Alfred quickly scrambled to his feet, trying to play it off like nothing happened. Arthur stood up after him, making a beeline for the door. As America watched him walk inside, a strange feeling filled the pit of his stomach; like butterflies. Why did he always get this feeling around Arthur...?

**XXXX**

**FINALLY, SOME DAMN PLOT. We're getting closer into the story, my friends. And something tells me you're going to like the next chapter!**


	8. Baby It's Cold Outside

**A/N: This is a longer chapter, and I'm kinda happy about that. The last few chapters have been a little cheap, so I'm hoping this one will make up for it. And don't worry, it's not all fluff... just a bit. Hey, I'm taking my time here! Don't worry though, I have a plan!**

**think.**

**XXXXXXXX**

It seemed like as soon as the rest of the world discovered the strange new land in the Atlantic, the phones at the cozy Finnish cabin were ringing non-stop. Peter, of course, didn't like that. Everyone was so business-like, taking notes about stuff, and talking non-stop about boring things. He'd barely been able to make Denmark keep his promise to play with him. Mathias, Ravis, Lili and himself had just stepped in through the back door, shaking the snow from their boots, after an hour outside.

He had expected to see everyone relaxing at this point. Hanging out in the living room, playing board games, or at least _something_ entertaining, but no. The older nations were still scattered about, huddled around papers, and computers, and cell phones. He frowned, putting his coat and boots in the back closet.

Lounging across the couch with his head hanging off the side, blackberry in hand, was Alfred. Peter walked over to him, leaning to the side as if he were upside down to face him. "You look like your head is going to explode." He commented.

Alfred laughed, quickly turning into a cough due to his unusual position. He flipped over, ignoring the dizziness that came over him. "Feels like it." He shook his head.

"Why are all of you so serious and boring all of the sudden?" He asked.

Alfred pushed himself so he was sitting up. "Well... some really cool stuff has come up that could be really good for everyone. That is, of course, if we all agree on my idea."

Peter tilted his head. "And what's that?"

This seemed to get Alfred excited. He rarely passed up an opportunity to brag. "Okay, so my idea is that we fix up this new land thingy that popped up in the ocean. Then we all put some work into it, make a sort of settlement for every country involved. And this place could act like an ambassador thing to the entire world! Sounds cool, right?"

Peter shrugged. "Sure, I guess." Looking around the room, he realized there wasn't much to do. Lili had gone off to find her brother and Ravis had gone to his room to call home. He blew a lock of hair out of his face, planting himself on the floor by the couch.

America had continued going through e-mails of updates his boss and Maria had given him, until he peeked over the edge of the sofa to see Peter playing with the tassells of Finland's rug. The poor kid had been perking up ever since the earthquake, but he just wasn't quite there yet. It was understandable, his whole life's dream was to become recognized as a nation... and now he really had no nation to be recognized. Alfred frowned, he knew what it felt like to be a kid just wanting to be recognized.

"Hey, Peter."

He looked up at the older nation, quirking his semi-thick eyebrows. "Yeah?"

"You want to get in on a secret?"

This seemed to catch his attention. "Oh! Yes! Tell me!"

Alfred made a show of looking around the room, leaning over to whisper in Peter's ear. "Not here, there might be spies. Come on, I'll tell you in the barn." Shoving his blackberry in his pocket, Alfred dramatically tiptoed out of the living room, into the foyer where he grabbed his coat and boots, and out the front door, Peter matching his movements the entire way. The two walked through the shovelled path out to the barn, where Alfred led him up into a warm loft. He stopped just before opening the doors to a small room. "Okay, so the secret is England's present. I figured this would help him have a little more fun, and stop being such a stiff all the time. I'm going to give it to him on Christmas morning, and I'm going to need your help. Now you have to cross your heart and promise that you won't speak a word of this to anyone. "

Peter eagerly obeyed. "I promise!"

Alfred grinned, opening the doors. "Okay then..."

**XXXXXXXX**

One can only spend so much time going over boring conversations and issues with one's boss. It wasn't long before the nations became restless, so Tino suggested they go down into the valley to a small restaurant he enjoyed. It was having a "Christmas Eve-Eve" party, because it wouldn't be open for Christmas eve itself. Everyone had all to eagerly agreed to get out of the cabin and away from work.

It was a small building in the middle of town. The inside was dimly lit, just enough to create a cozy atmosphere. Garland with lights and white and red flowers were strung up on the walls, giving the restaurant a christmas-y glow. Tables were set up with golden clothes along the sides of the room, leaving a small dance floor in the middle. The nations of course had to get a larger table, conveniently right beside the dance floor.

"This is a nice place." Hungary commented as she took a seat.

"It is, I come here a lot when I'm not in the city." Tino smiled.

"Whatever, I just hope the food is good!" Alfred said excitedly as he picked up a menu, only to be elbowed in the side by both his brother and Arthur.

The table dissolved into idle chatter as they waited to be served. Finnish christmas carols played quietly in the background, just loud enough to be heard without overpowering the conversations of the customers. They hadn't been seated for five minutes before a waitress came sauntering toward their table. She was young, probably about 23, with a pretty freckled face and bottle-black hair. As she walked toward them, her eyes glanced over the table, stopping for a moment on Arthur. She smirked to herself, taking out her notepad and pen.

"Oletko valmis tilaamaan?" She asked the table.

"Kyllä, Kalevala." Tino said, obviously familiar with the girl, as he began to rattle off the food everyone had chosen. It wasn't much, just drinks and appetizers, but Tino of course new the language, and restaurant better, so he was elected to order.

But the thing that struck Alfred as weird while he watched Kalevala's quick pen scribbles, was that although Tino was the one talking to her, her eyes kept drifting over to Arthur, who sat beside him. The look in her eyes was one that he decided he did not like. There was something off about this girl, like she wasn't as sweet as she pretended to be. Though maybe that was just his over active imagination.

"Earth to Alfred F. Jones!" Matthew waved his hand in front of his face, causing him to jump.

"Uh, what?" He blinked

Matt smirked. "You were staring off into space with a really grouchy look on your face."

"Oh," Alfred scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. "I guess I was just thinking about... how much I hate salads." He lied through his teeth. "It's like rabbit food."

His brother quirked an eyebrow but didn't push it. "Okay."

Looking around, Alfred frowned when he realized that Kalevala or whatever her name was, had already left. He couldn't get comfortable with it though, because soon enough she was back, a large black tray with multiple glasses balanced in one hand. Show off. She placed everyone's drink in front of them, and was off again, but not before sending an obvious wink Arthur's way that just... Alfred didn't like it. He didn't know why, he just didn't.

"What's gotten into you?" Arthur asked him, noticing the slight glare he was sending Kalevala's retreating back.

"Nothing." Alfred answered quickly, a little harsher than he meant.

Arthur frowned. "I saw that. You were glaring at the girl like she'd run over your toe with a steam roller."

"Well, did you see her?"

"See her what?"

Alfred rolled his eyes. "Oh please, there is no way you could have missed that. Her eyes were all over you!"

"Alfred, you are being ridiculous." Arthur hissed. "It was a simple wink-"

"So you did notice?"

"That's not the bloody point!" Arthur nearly shouted, trying not to draw attention to their spat. "The point is, it was harmless, and I-...what's this?" He trailed off, finding a small, blue piece of notepad paper stuck under his glass. He lifted his glass, peeling it off. Through the water marks left from touching the wet glass, a simple message was scrawled in shaky English.

_583-765-9374_

_Call if want Hook Up ;)_

That was the final straw. With a huff, Alfred pushed himself out of his chair, storming out of the restaurant and into the cold winter night. He was just going to take a walk around the town to calm himself down... he'd just have to think of some excuse of why he had to leave when he went back. So he began wandering aimlessly, wishing he'd had enough sense to grab his jacket. Damn, it was cold.

Why was he getting so worked up? There was something churning in his gut, something... well, he still didn't know. For the life of him, he couldn't figure it out. Just the thought of that girl trying to get all over Arthur... he felt like there should be no one trying to do that. Not while he was there. Besides, Arthur deserved better than that. Arthur was stiff, stubborn, and sometimes just boring. They argued and bickered all the time, but despite all this... Alfred knew he had a different side. He was caring, hard working and brave. He stood up for himself through thick and thin. He was... well, he'd always just been there for him. Yeah, Arthur deserved better than some girl who'd wheel him for a Hook Up and drop him. He deserved...

Shit.

It was suddenly too quiet. The crunching of snow underneath his boots ceased as the realization hit, causing him to stop in mid step. The freezing wind cut at his skin, snow falling at a blinding pace. Alfred took a deep breath of cold air in an attempt to get his mind working again. He... he had feelings for Arthur. He didn't know what was more surprising; the fact that he liked England, or the fact that he just figured out he was gay.

_Well_.

His mind getting off track as usual, Alfred glanced around, finally taking in his surroundings- the middle of nowhere. He could barely see two feet in front of him, but from the lack of light, he knew he wasn't in town anymore. Damn, he must have started walking up the valley, but which side? The cold bit at him, causing shivers to rack his body. Oh, this sucked...

**XXXXXXXX**

Needless to say, after Alfred had stormed out, things got quiet. No one really understood what had happened. They saw that America and England were bickering about something, but they couldn't hear what it was all about. Soon enough though, conversation resumed, and things got back to normal.

But not for Arthur. He settled on staring off into space, only snapping back into reality when someone spoke to him. It wasn't long before Kalevala brought them their food, and this time, she wasn't so subtle. Arthur had to politely tell her he wasn't interested, to which she pouted for a moment before quietly walking off. He ate in silence, glancing at the front door every so often, waiting for America to burst in with that idiotic grin plastered all over his face.

It never happened. As the evening continued, the nations finished their meals and headed off to the dance floor, leaving Arthur at the table. It'd been almost two hours now, where could that dolt have gone? With a frustrated sigh, he stood up, grabbing his coat and Alfred's before heading over to the others, huddled in the centre of the dance floor.

"I'm going to go find Alfred." He shouted over the music.

The first to hear him, Francis turned around. "He's probably gone back to the house by now, mon ami. I'm sure he's fine." He answered.

Arthur shook his head. "He seemed upset about something. I'm just going to check up on him is all."

"If you insist." Francis shrugged. He knew very well there was no convincing England to stay at that point. He had his mind made up, and there was no stopping him now.

England threw his coat on as he walked out the door, hit immediately with the violent snow storm. Alfred's stubbornness knew no bounds if he really walked back to the cabin in this weather. Taking shelter in the restaurant's doorway, he pulled out his cellphone and dialled Alfred's number, praying that he remembered to bring the damn thing.

The other end picked up, but nothing was said. The only thing coming from Alfred's line was the wind howling and a soft fumbling. Now he was getting worried. "Alfred? Are you there?"

"...A-Arthur?" The voice on the other end was quiet, trembling.

Arthur frowned. "Yes, where are you?"

"D-Dunn-no..."

"What the bloody hell do you mean you don't know?"

"Wa-andered off-ff. C-Can't find-d-d my way back." A sharp gasp from Alfred had Arthur's heart pounding with growing fear. This did not sound good.

"Are you alright?" He asked, voice softening.

"Just-t... cold."

Arthur shut his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath to calm his steadily racing heart. "Alright, you have a GPS on your phone, right?" He asked clearly, snapping into military mode.

"Mhm."

"I need you to turn it on for me. I can type in your number from my phone and find where you are. Can you do that?"

"Y-Yeah..."

"Okay, I'm going to have to hang up to use the GPS, but I'll be there soon okay? Just try to find some kind of shelter... Alfred?" The last word was choked, fear squeezing his throat. Alfred never answered, the line soon cut off. "Bollocks..." The Brit cursed under his breathe as he quickly turned his GPS on and punched in Alfred's number. Waiting for the damn thing to receive a signal was like torture, but that was nothing compared to when it display's Alfred's location- the damn fool was on the wrong side of the valley.

Thankfully it wasn't too far away, a twenty minute jog up the mountain. Alfred must have walked in circles for the past two hours to get so lost. The snow and wind didn't exactly cooperate either, nearly causing him to slip several times. But he kept pushing on, fighting against the mountain until his map told him he'd arrived. Stopping dead in his tracks in what seemed like the middle of a forest though he couldn't tell, Arthur whirled around, looking for that familiar blonde hair.

Panic set in when he couldn't see him. Had he dropped his phone? He could be buried under all this snow by now. Whirling around, his eyes scanned the area, until his eyes landed on a barely noticable form, huddled in the corner of a small cave up ahead of him. He nearly tripped in the snow, running toward the figure, praying he'd found Alfred. Entering the cave, he breathed a sigh of slight relief, finding America curled up as far in as possible.

"Mother Mary..." Arthur trailed off as he dropped to his knees beside the American, cupping his face to get his attention. He was shivering uncontrollably, eyes staring off at noting, lips slowly turning a pale blue. England had to act fast if he wanted to save him from hypothermia. "Alfred, can you hear me?" He asked, placing one hand on his shoulder. Al nodded stiffly in response. "I'm going to get you warmed up, okay? But you have to let me." Once again, all he received in reply was a weak nod.

Arthur quickly jumped into action. He'd stuffed Alfred's jacket between his own coat and his body before begining his treck up the mountain so it wouldn't be cold when he got it to him. He quickly pulled it over Alfred's shoulders, making sure it was secure, before wrapping his arms around him. Arthur brought Alfred close, using his own body heat to keep him warm. He rubbed his shoulders and back, reaching into his coat pocket with one hand to call the idiot's brother.

Obviously, Matthew had been expecting the call, because he picked up after one ring. "Arthur? Where are you? We're all back at the cabin already, we thought you and Al would be here." Matthew answered.

"Slight change in plans I'm afraid. Alfred got himself lost and half dying from the cold on the other side of the valley. I need someone to come with a car, I'll send you the map. And make sure the heater is on."

The concern clearly leaked it's way into Matthew's voice."On our way."

Once the directions were sent, Arthur replaced his phone in his pocket and continued his attempts to warm Alfred. "Bloody hell, you're freezing." He whispered. "How do you get yourself into these messes?"

"C-Cunning wit an-nd ch-charm..." America muttered into Arthur's embrace, voice barely audible.

"I'm sure." Arthur allowed himself a small smile, slowly feeling it drop when Alfred didn't respond. "Alfred?"

"Mhm?"

"I'd feel better if you kept talking to me." He said honestly. He knew it was important to keep hypothermia victims talking and awake. Falling asleep was too dangerous, and although Alfred was a nation and couldn't really die, he didn't want any sort of damage coming from this.

"U-Usually you want-t-t me to shut up." Alfred grinned half heartedly.

"This is the only exception." He waited for a response, but once again, it seemed like none would come. He was about to resort to yelling to keep him awake, when he heard him call out quietly.

"H-Hey Iggy?"

"Yes Alfred?"

"'M sorry f-for bein' a jackass ba-ack there."

Dear lord, Alfred really was disoriented. Normally he'd never apologize so quickly. Arthur didn't know whether to be proud or worried. So, he just nodded, whispering "All is forgiven," and continued to rub Alfred's shoulders, until bright headlights came their way from up the mountain.

**XXXXXXX**

**Aaannndddd I think that'll do for now! **


End file.
